


I Can't Get No Satisfaction

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Will & Grace
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: Grace says she's 100% heterosexual. Karen sets out to prove her wrong.





	I Can't Get No Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Currently obsessed with this OTP. I know there are other shippers out there!   
> Comments are love and inspire me to keep writing!

Grace Adler does not consider herself to be a particularly lonely person. She has incredible friends and a loving (if not also a little obnoxious) family. She’s lucky, really, to be surrounded by such good people. 

But…

_She_ might not be lonely, but her body sure is. 

It’s really, really inconvenient that her traitorous body is this turned on on a night when she’s having a Girls Night Sleepover with Karen. If it had been any other night, Grace could have been locked in her room with her vibrator, a Colin Firth movie, and a spare pack of batteries. She could have taken care of this painful, mind-numbing ache between her legs enough so she could actually enjoy her time with Karen. 

She had been distracted through the mani-pedis, the homemade ice cream bar Karen had Chef put together for her, the side-by-side massages. In fact, if she had been able to take care of her _situation_ , Grace might not have found herself looking at Karen a little more, eyeing her killer cleavage in her black silk nightgown and watching the arch of her long, pale throat as she looked toward Rosario. She might not have found herself staring at the way the slit in her gown parted to reveal smooth, alabaster thigh. 

It’s weirding her out. 

It’s not that she hasn’t checked Karen out before -- what kind of woman doesn’t check out their hot friends and compare the size of boobs and booties? That’s a totally normal girl thing to do. And anyway, Grace knows she’s only ogling a little extra because of her situation. 

Karen, mercifully, seems not to have noticed, too distracted is she with ordering Rosario to fetch Grace potato chips and cheese and crackers while polishing off her five-hundredth martini. 

“What the hell is going on with you, Gracie? You didn’t even react when I suggested we work on our Kegels and watch lesbian porn.” 

There’s no point in lying -- at least not about her situation. She flops back against the down pillow on Karen’s lavish bed with a heavy sigh. “I need a boyfriend.” 

Karen rolls her eyes, scoffing. “You always say that and you’re always wrong. You just need to get laid.” 

“Well, duh. But that problem would be easily solved if I had a boyfriend.” 

“No, it wouldn’t. You’d pick a balding loser with mommy issues and back-ne, and then you’d beg me to coach you through breaking up with him, and then you’d be right back where you started without the back hair clogging your shower.” 

Grace furrows her brow and looks away, attempting to overlook the fact that Karen had just described four -- no, five -- ex-boyfriends. She sits up. “Well, what do you suggest then, huh? Because as wound up as I’m feeling, I’m more than open to suggestions.” 

Karen raises an eyebrow, and Grace knows by the upward tilt of her mouth that Karen’s got an idea that Grace probably won’t like. Karen closes her magazine and turns her body toward Grace. Grace pretends not to notice the way the silk pulls tight against Karen’s breasts. “What you need, Grace Adler, is to get it on with a lady.” She pats Grace’s arm. 

Grace having sex with a woman? She can’t stop herself from laughing so hard that she snorts. “Ha! Me, and women? You’re hilarious.” 

“Homophobe!” Karen shouts. 

“No, no -- that’s not it. Lesbians are hot. Look at Ellen Degeneres. But it just won’t work for me.” 

“Why the hell not?” 

“Don’t you think I tried that? I went through a period much longer than I’d care to specify when I tried to convince myself that I was into girls. I even made out with Ellen--” 

“There’s your first problem,” Karen mumbles. 

“--and went on a date with the cute butch RA at Columbia, but it never worked. It did nothing for me. I’m afraid I’m unfortunately a card-carrying heterosexual.” 

“Trust me, honey, no one is a card-carrying heterosexual. They don’t exist. Every boy likes a little finger up the butt and every girl wants to hump Angelina Jolie. It’s nature.” 

“I dunno, Karen. Maybe I’m the first one.” Grace looks off into the distance. “Maybe I’ll be in textbooks.” 

Karen rolls her eyes again, more dramatically this time. “Even you, Grace. I’ll prove it to you.” 

“Pssh. How? You gonna hire me an escort to do girl-sex stuff to me?” 

Karen sits up a little higher, squaring her shoulders. “No, honey. I’m gonna do it myself.” 

Grace laughs again, but thankfully does not embarrass herself with a snort. “You, actually do work? I don’t buy it.” 

The brunette pinches Grace’s arm, hard. “You’re just scared.” 

“Me? Scared? Hardly.” 

“No, no, you are. It’s written all over you. You’re afraid I’ll prove you wrong and make you realize that you are attracted to women.” 

“Why would that scare me?” 

“Because you might just realize that women might ruin men for you.” 

“With lesbian sex? I don’t know about that. Men have penises. Nice, hard, satisfying penises. And they find my clit at least 57% of the time.” Grace blinks as she realizes that Karen is sitting closer to her, and her breast is a fraction of an inch from brushing Grace’s bare arm. 

“You’d be surprised, Gracie,” Karen says, her voice lower than Grace ever knew she could make it. “Women know what women like. They know how to seduce them, to kiss them until their toes curl, to touch them until they can’t stop trembling, to make them come so hard they forget their own names. I bet no man has ever made you feel that way.” 

Grace swallows hard. Had she always been sweating like this? Karen, she realizes, is right. No boyfriend had ever made her feel like that. In fact, the only person who could make her feel that way was Grace herself. 

“Didn’t think so,” Karen says smugly. She uses one fingertip to gently stroke from her shoulder to the tip of her middle finger. “I bet you I can do it. I’m a very, very good lover, and very experienced with women. Just ask Rosie.” 

Grace purses her lips -- does Karen mean that she’s had sex with her maid, or that Rosario has vast knowledge of Karen’s lovers? -- and then checks in with her body. She’d been horny before, but had her underwear been this wet? Had her nipples been hard enough to cut glass? Had her breathing already quickened? “I don’t know, Karen.” 

Karen leans a little closer, her breast pressing against her arm, her mouth close to her ear. She whispers, “What’s the worse you could get out of this? A little satisfaction?”

Grace moans. 

Dammit. 

Karen takes this very obvious sign of interest for what it is and leans in, pressing her mouth against Grace’s throat, suckling gently and stroking her tongue against her pulsepoint. 

Grace’s eye snap shut, the answering throb between her legs making her throw her skepticism out the proverbial window. 

Karen is nothing if not persuasive, and, truth be told, Grace’s moral center gets a little off-kilter sometimes. 

Karen reaches out and turns Grace’s face toward her, guiding her mouth in for a kiss. It’s not like Grace hasn’t kissed Karen a thousand times, but it's never been like this. Karen is deliberate in her kissing, using her tongue to guide open Grace’s mouth and lick the back of her teeth. Grace exhales sharply and let’s herself enjoy it, stroking her own tongue against Karen’s. She feels Karen’s warm hand press flat against her chest and then she is being pushed back against the mattress. 

When Grace hits the pillow, she gasps into Karen’s mouth. 

Karen pulls away and smirks as she gets to her knees. She pulls the bottom of her nightgown high up to her thighs, revealing smooth, pale skin, and then she straddles her. 

Wow. Okay. So, this is not the worst view ever, Grace thinks as she stares up at Karen’s full breasts and flushed face. Seeing Karen’s own obvious enjoyment is a huge aphrodisiac -- Grace Adler turns people on! Gracie’s got her groove back! -- and before Grace realizes what she’s done, her hand is on Karen’s firm thigh. 

It hits her then. She’s about to have sex with Karen Walker. 

She’s about to _enjoy_ having sex with Karen Walker. 

She clutches the bedspread with her other hand, holding on for dear life. 

Karen pulls up the hem of Grace’s Sleater-Kinney t-shirt, exposing only her tummy. She already has goosebumps as Karen teases her fingers slowly against her flesh, the tickle far more pleasurable than uncomfortable. She scratches her freshly manicured nails against her ribs. Grace lets out a sigh. 

And then, Karen is reaching for Grace’s boobs, which is not altogether uncommon in their relationship, but it’s never made her hold her breath in anticipation before. Karen’s palms cover bare breasts, holding the defiantly, proudly small weight in her hands. “Perfect,” Karen whispers, and Grace bites her lip. No one has ever called her body perfect. 

She gives in completely. 

When Karen’s thumbs brush against her nipples, Grace arches her hips against Karen as she perches above her. Karen is warm here -- so warm that her mind goes blank at the possibility that Karen’s commando beneath her gown -- and Grace really, really likes it. 

She’d always taken Karen’s flirtation as a long-running joke, an amusement to pass the time when she’s bored. But this Karen, this vampy seductress, is actually turned on by it, by her, by what she’s doing. This isn’t just a game to Karen to prove herself right, and that fact is really doing it for Grace in a big way. She arches her hips up again, on purpose this time, and Karen’s eyes darken. She pinches Grace’s nipples and plays her body as if she’s already an expert in what’s going to get Grace the Big O. 

This is the first time that Grace has gone into sex knowing that she was guaranteed to have an orgasm. 

Her body is ready. 

“I’ve always wondered how you’d taste, honey,” Karen says, pulling Grace’s shirt over her head. She leans down, enclosing her scathing, hot mouth over her nipple. 

Grace moans, unable to stop herself from watching everything Karen is doing to her. She sucks hard, nipping her teeth against the hardened peak, and Grace clenches her thighs. “Hooooooly crap,” Grace hisses, writhing her body against Karen’s. 

“I’m already right, aren’t I?” 

Grace’s mop of red curls nods quickly in affirmation. 

“Oh honey, we’ve only just started.” 

Grace’s mind goes blank as Karen makes out with her chest. She had no idea that she could even experience this much enjoyment out of having her breasts stimulated -- so few people had ever tried it. But Karen, for all of her merciless teasing about Grace’s modest chest, touches her like she’s addicted. 

And then Grace sucks in a breath; Karen grinds down hard against her before moving down Grace’s body, kissing a wet trail down to where her pajama shorts begin. 

She spares a passing thought to analyzing how this will impact the dynamic of their friendship before Karen hooks her fingers in the elastic of her shorts and breathlessly asks, “You in, Gracie?” 

“i can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes. I’m in. Please, Karen.” 

Karen tugs and then her shorts and underwear are on the floor, and her legs are being spread wide. Grace gasps. She tries not to be embarrassed by the length of her wet, sticky curls, but Karen doesn’t seem to mind when she settles down low between her legs. She guides Grace’s legs until her feet are on the mattress and scratches teasingly along her inner thighs. Grace shivers. 

Grace can’t believe this is happening. Karen Walker, who calls Grace weird-looking and does no work and is married to Stan Walker, is about to go down on her. 

If this is a really porny dream, Grace hopes she at leasts gets off before she wakes up. 

Karen swipes her tongue against her, pressing against her musky wetness. The guys she’s dated in the past had always stiffened their tongues and gotten to work, but Karen takes her time, licking her entire sex like it’s a martini from the last bottle of Stoli in the house and she’s going to drink every last drop. Grace pulls out the clip holding back Karen’s hair and grabs a soft handful, holding Karen close to her so that she’ll never, ever stop doing this. Grace tries to watch but has to close her eyes, has to tilt her head back against her pillow so she can arch her body against the woman currently eating her out. 

Grace Adler is being eaten out by Karen Walker, and it’s already the greatest sex she’s ever had. 

Karen begins to focus her tongue against her clit, stroking and swirling tight circles around it. And then her fingers are inside her, pressing hard against the walls of her pussy. (When did she become someone who called her _down there_ a pussy?) Grace cries out, moaning loud enough to disrupt an entire wing of the mansion, and Karen moans her approval against her, making her tongue vibrate against her clit. 

Her orgasm doesn’t build so much as it crashes through her, wracking her body in several long seconds of overwhelming, blinding pleasure. She can’t even cry Karen’s name; she is breathless and gasping and goes a little hazy around the edges. 

When she stops coming what feels like three years later, Grace slumps back against the mattress, inhaling shakily as she blinks up at Karen, who is now somehow straddling her again. “Well?” she asks, licking Grace’s arousal off her lips. 

“You were right,” Grace whispers. 

“What was that?” Karen asks, looking really, really hot with her hair mussed up. 

“You were right,” Grace says, sliding her hands up the length of Karen’s thighs, pushing up the silk as she goes. 

“I’m not sure I heard you,” Karen mentions, her voice hitching as Grace confirms that Karen actually is commando. 

“You.” Grace slides long fingers down Karen’s inner thigh. “Were.” She presses against short, trimmed hair. “Right.” She cover’s Karen’s pussy with her palm, discovering just how wet she is. 

“Oh, Gracie,” Karen says, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I need you to fuck me.” 

And so she does. Grace presses tentative fingers at her swollen folds, gathering the wetness to stroke against her clit. Oh, wow. So, turns out that giving is just as good as receiving. Karen’s perfect mouth opens and she grasps her own breasts. Grace momentarily falters as she stares, blown away by how erotic this image is. 

This is totally working for her. 

Grace presses two fingers inside her and Karen’s hips shift down against her, filling herself. She moans, rocking her hips against Grace’s hand. 

Grace tries to reposition her hand to touch Karen’s clit but the angle is weird and Karen is grinding against the fingers inside her and she knows this is probably an amateur move but Grace uses her other hand to stroke Karen’s clitoris. 

The spaghetti strap of the nightgown falls down Karen’s shoulder, the fabric slipping with each shift of Karen’s body, exposing her right breast. Her nipples are pink and perfectly puckered and Grace arches her own hips up against her hand, driving her fingers harder. Karen shrieks and leans down, pressing her breasts against Grace’s, grinding her hips. Karen kisses her, sucking Grace’s lower lip and nipping with her teeth. 

And then, right before her eyes, Karen Walker is coming hard, whispering Grace’s name like a prayer. 

Grace Adler knows when to admit she’s wrong -- most of the time. Okay, some of the time. 

This time, Grace was wrong, and Karen Walker was very, very right.


End file.
